


Night Blooming

by harinezumiko



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Medical Procedures, Multi, Mutual Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22963351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harinezumiko/pseuds/harinezumiko
Summary: No-one came back from the other worlds unchanged. Some changes were just more obvious than others.
Relationships: Manjoume Jun | Chazz Princeton/Tenjouin Asuka | Alexis Rhodes, Manjoume Jun | Chazz Princeton/Tenjouin Fubuki | Atticus Rhodes, Tenjouin Fubuki | Atticus Rhodes/Original Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	1. Love is… susceptible

Being lost wasn’t a problem for Fubuki. Quite the reverse, in fact. He often took walks away from the Academy buildings to feel the whispering breeze in his hair, the dappled sun on his face, the murmuring calm in his mind. Sometimes he’d make it back before dinner, other times he’d stay out and strum his guitar under the stars. Lately, though, there was an itch in his mind. He wasn’t wandering to be lost any more. There was something he needed to find.

His current path through the forest was blocked by a fallen tree. In accordance with arcane rules of his own making, he struck out to the right rather than cross over it. That would take him back towards the centre of the island. Probably. Maybe.

There was a rustle of leaves behind Fubuki. The girl had been following him for a little while, maybe since he’d passed the ruined arch. He would acknowledge her presence eventually – once he was in sight of a suitable escape route. He loved every member of his fanclub but they could be exhausting.

A pang of guilt, then. That wasn’t the right thing to be thinking. He certainly shouldn’t be thinking how much easier it had been last year, first with half the school sucked into a desert wasteland, and then later, when he’d been –

Whatever he had been, it was cold, and dark, and full of pain. The emotions they had each borne festered, amplified, in their own little pocket of hell, even the comforting warmth of Manjoume’s insistent touch denied to him there as Manjoume fixated on cursing Judai and all that he had wrought. Fubuki had held solely Asuka, and the two had cried together, long after the constant thirst should have dried their tears.

Shades of anguish would haunt Fubuki for the rest of his life. He had carried that burden long before he had set foot in the dark world, though – that itch again – he wasn’t sure he knew the full depth of it yet.

He started humming, a pretty pop tune. Living well was just another part to play and Fubuki had always been a method actor. A tangle of vines up ahead should have forced him back. Ever determined, Fubuki found a suitable tree and began to climb. His white coat picked up some dirt along the way, but Fubuki cared for his clothes, and there was never a stain that he could not best in single combat.

The tree was a little taller than the others around it, and he managed to get a peek above the canopy. He had to shade his eyes from the late afternoon sun. It didn’t take him long to locate the huge Academy building with its mismatched domes and spires. The volcano acted as another point for triangulation. He figured out the likely direction and distance for the Blue dorm, added on some time for cutting back through the forest, and figured he could probably still get to the evening meal. His empty stomach didn’t mind that thought at all.

Fubuki scrambled down from branch to branch and swung himself elegantly to the ground. He managed to land right in front of the surprised girl. He brushed off the leaves before offering her a courteous bow. He would just have to address her a little sooner than planned.

“Greetings! Kobayashi-san, isn’t it?”

She stared in the direction of Fubuki’s feet and nodded, her short black hair bobbing with the motion. “I’m happy you remembered my name.”

“Of course!” Fubuki smiled with a wink. “I make it my mission to learn all my classmates’ names.”

“There’s so many… How can one person ever stand out?” Kobayashi looked up at him, her dark eyes wide beneath her bangs.

“Everyone has something that makes them special.” Fubuki leant back against the tree and crossed his arms. “Sometimes you see it in class, or on the duel field. Sometimes you see someone comforting a friend, or standing up to bullies. Sometimes I see you volunteering at the infirmary.”

“Oh…” Kobayashi flushed.

“Shall we walk back? The dorms are this way.” Fubuki started walking, but Kobayashi stood rooted to the spot. He turned back to her. “Kobayashi-san? You shouldn’t stay out here alone.” He would have to send her on ahead once they were in sight of the buildings, lest his fanclub grow too excited, but he could escort her most of the way.

“Before we go,” Kobayashi opened her backpack and took out a small pink envelope covered in cute stickers. Fubuki’s name was written on it in sparkly gel pen. “I wanted to give you this.”

Fubuki’s heart leapt into his throat, as it always did. He would treasure each and every confession. He let his fingers run over hers, which were hot and trembling, as he took the envelope. Her gaze dropped back to the floor and she stumbled through her words.

“Ever since I first saw you, Tenjoin-san, I knew I liked you. You’re so good and kind. You bring so much happiness to me. I had to tell you.”

“Yua-chan,” Fubuki said softly, lifting her chin with a soft finger. “Love is the greatest thing anyone can give, and truly, I appreciate it. I’m sorry, but I’m unable to give you something so precious in return.”

She laughed, then, hollow and choked. “I was ready for this. I don’t mind. I just had to try.”

“Keep trying,” said Fubuki earnestly. “Give your heart freely, and one day you’ll find someone deserving of holding onto it. I’m sorry it couldn’t be me.”

“It’s fine, really,” said Kobayashi. She turned away and coughed.

Fubuki gave her space at first, thinking she was attempting to cover tears. But the cough became more strident and wracked her small body with uncomfortable spasms. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Kobayashi-san?”

“I’m sorry,” she sniffed, fishing in her bag for a tissue, and face mask. “I might be getting a cold. Please wash your hands when you get back, Tenjoin-san.”

“After we get you to the infirmary.” Fubuki rubbed her back. “And you can call me Fubuki, now we’re properly acquainted, if you like. Or Bucky.”

“Fubuki,” she said, smiling through her reddened eyes. “I liked it when you called me Yua-chan, too.”

As she straightened up and pulled her backpack back on to her shoulders, Fubuki noticed stray yellow petals at her feet. She had probably pressed some flowers inside her note for fragrance. He would look forward to reading it later.


	2. Love is… exposed

There was no sign of Kobayashi in the next day’s lectures. Fubuki imagined she was getting rest to clear her cough. Before he knew it a full week had passed, more than enough for a common cold. He craned his neck to look up at the rows of seats behind, trying to find the slight girl with the black bob in the sea of Obelisk blue, but she was still nowhere to be seen.

A patting sensation on his forearm grew in intensity and Fubuki spun back around. A quick glance at Cronos assured him that he wasn’t in trouble. Fubuki kept his voice low, more to avoid attracting attention than worrying about disturbing the class. “Manjoume-kun, what is it?”

“Did you lose something?” Manjoume frowned. “You’re acting weird.”

“There was a girl,” said Fubuki. “I was hoping to see her.”

“Oh,” Manjoume looked at the desk and chewed his bottom lip, setting his hand back to the task of writing. “A friend?”

“Maybe.” Fubuki drummed his fingers on the desk, earning him a death glare from Asuka. That stopped him. His knee set to bouncing instead. “I just want to know if she’s okay.”

“Who was it? I could help find her.”

“The assistance of the great Detective Thunder, huh?” Fubuki rested his head on his hand and cocked an affectionate smile at Manjoume. “With your expertise, we’re sure to succeed.”

“Well, of course.” Manjoume’s chin lifted at the compliment. “What do you know about her?”

Giving Manjoume Kobayashi’s name would be too easy. “She likes yellow flowers,” said Fubuki dreamily.

* * *

There was some free time after class. They had homework, too, but that paled in importance against wandering the ocean paths looking for an elusive yellow flower. Fubuki ambled slowly along, watching Manjoume scurry ahead to examine a bloom. At Manjoume’s every find, Fubuki would shake his head sadly – too orange, too round, too small.

“So this girl,” said Manjoume, kicking listlessly at the gravelly sand. “Did you give her flowers or did she give you them?”

“Neither, really,” said Fubuki. “She gave me a letter, and she must have dropped some at the time. I thought there might be some in the letter but there weren’t.”

“A love confession?” Manjoume sniffed.

“Yes.” Fubuki smiled at the memory, though the bitter tang on the ocean air recalled the eventual outcome.

“And you…?” Manjoume stuffed his hands in his coat pockets.

“I turned her down, of course.”

“Oh, well that’s all right then.”

“All right how?” Fubuki watched Manjoume closely, but his thick black hair obscured much of his expression.

“Well, she’s obviously already seeing someone, and that’s who the flowers were from. She was planning to two-time him with you, but now she figures you know about her plot, and she’s hiding out of embarrassment.” Manjoume’s voice rose to a fever-pitch of confidence. “Mystery solved.”

“Can that really be it?” Fubuki laughed, then held up his hands in supplication as Manjoume wheeled on him with a face set firmly. “Okay, okay, Great Detective. That’s the best theory we have at the moment.”

“Anyway, if she dropped the flowers, they might still be there. We could go and see.”

“Mmm-hmm!” Fubuki tried to remember how to get to the spot in the woods. “It’s probably this way.”

Manjoume followed Fubuki’s lead, stepping delicately over a muddy puddle and catching his coat on a twig in the process. He pulled it free, looked around to check no-one had seen, and hurried on towards Fubuki. “Maybe I never get any confessions because I’m always next to you. You just kind of suck them all up.”

Fubuki cast him a shrewd smile. “Why, Manjoume-kun, if you’re eager for one I’m sure that could be arranged.”

Twin roses bloomed brightly in Manjoume’s cheeks. He clapped Fubuki on the shoulder in what was supposed to be a reassuring fashion. “Master, there’s only one girl for me, you know that.”

“Asuka, I know.” Fubuki paused, ostensibly to check the surroundings, and turned to the left. “But if for some reason my sister remains resistant to your many charms, you might want to know that you have other options.”

“I respect her too much to even think about that.”

“Is that so.” Flirting with Manjoume was always a delicate balance. It was enjoyable, to a very sharp point. Fubuki’s hopes could be raised and dashed within a few short moments. Yet he would try again, day after day, for those adrenaline heartbeats, that shot of expectation.

In silence Fubuki pressed on through the trees, deeper into the forest. A few wrong turns later, he spread his arms triumphantly. “Here we are!”

Manjoume looked around. “Are you sure? We’ve been through at least three clearings just like this. And I don’t see any flowers.”

“My instincts remember. This is the place.” Fubuki crouched to look around, guessing that by now the breeze would have spread the petals. Sure enough, he caught a smudge of decaying yellow under a nearby bush. “Look here, Manjoume-kun.”

Manjoume squatted next to him, angling his head bird-like. Fubuki reached in to pick up one of the petals. Manjoume’s hand shot out to block him. “Wait.”

Manjoume pulled a couple of pens from his pocket, using them to gently lift a fragile petal from the forest floor.

“What? What is it?” Fubuki asked. Manjoume’s expression was too grim to assume that he was simply trying to identify the flower.

Manjoume raised the petal to eye level. The once-yellow petal was further marred by a dull red stain. “Blood, I think.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am, of course, aware of what is happening in the world right now, and I was in two minds about whether to continue / publish this fic. In the end I figured that while it's a magical illness with no relation to the real world I might gain some small measure of catharsis from writing it, and that might mean others are looking for things like this to read, and so here we are.
> 
> I hope you and yours are keepng well, dear reader: safe, and loved.


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